


up up up (ready or not, here i come)

by teacupfulofbrains



Series: little and broken (but still good) [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soft boys being soft, a look at the fam's morning routine, and they adopt thomas roman and logan, but that's okay, he loves his grumpy family anyway, moxiety dad au, patton and virgil are married, patton is the only morning person in his whole family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: patton's the only member of his family who's a morning person. his husband and his three sons all hate getting up and moving. but that's okay, because patton is chipper enough for all of them.(OR: a look at a typical morning in the sanders household)





	up up up (ready or not, here i come)

**Author's Note:**

> this is an au that i've been planning and thinking about for almost a year, and finally got around to writing for! the basic premise is that patton and virgil are married, and they adopt three children: thomas, roman, and logan. shenanigans ensue. 
> 
> this work is dedicated to bee (@bumblebeekitten on tumblr) for giving me the motivation to finish the fic! the title comes from the same song patton uses as his alarm, "up up up" by rose falcon (linked in the fic! just don't have your volume up too loud!)
> 
> CW: food mention

“ _[Geeeeeeet ready or not, ‘cause here I come! Dance, dance, dance, have some fun! Six five four, three two one, get up - get up! Geeeet up up up!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdnL_I8HKoo)_ ”

“Shuuuuut up up up,” Virgil groans, rolling over and shoving his head underneath the pillow. Patton sits up, yawning, and stretches, feeling more than hearing his shoulders and neck cracking. He fumbles for his nightstand, locating his phone mostly by sound. Once his fingertips brush the smooth glass, he taps and swipes blindly at the screen until he successfully snoozes his alarm and shuts the song off.

“Good morning, Virgil,” Patton hums, leaning over to press a kiss to what little remains visible of Virgil’s fluffy bedhead. Virgil mumbles incoherently and burrows further into the blankets. Patton feels for his glasses and very narrowly manages to put them on _without_ poking himself in the eye.

He makes his way into the bathroom, leaving his glasses on the sink and his pajamas in a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor as he quickly hops into the warm shower spray. It nearly lulls him right back to sleep, but as he uncaps the shampoo bottle the sharp scent of mint snaps him back to wakefulness.

“Ready or not . . . here I come . . . dance dance dance . . . four three two one . . .”

Patton mumbles the lyrics to his alarm song as he showers, quickly scrubbing his caramel curls and freckled body with mint-scented soap. When he was in college, he prided himself on his spontaneity and his refusal to adhere to any sense of routine whatsoever. Now, as an adult, he can confidently say that college him was an _idiot_. The easy familiarity and comfort of his daily routine is calming; he’s on autopilot, allowing his body to go through the motions while his mind wakes up.

His mind catches up to his body as he pulls on his scrubs, fluffing up his curly hair with his fingers and sliding his glasses back on. Virgil still hasn’t moved from his lump of blankets, and Patton carefully tugs them down to expose part of his husband’s body to the cold to start the wake-up process.

Patton climbs up from their basement bedroom and turns the light on in the kitchen. Breakfast is a pretty standard affair, and he hears the little _beep-diddly-eep!_ of his phone connecting to the wireless speaker above the cabinet.

“Hey, Siri! Play _Patton’s Good Morning_ playlist, on shuffle!”  
  
“Playing _Patton’s Good Morning_ playlist.”

The song Patton uses as an alarm begins to filter through the room as he pokes his head into the fridge and deliberates what to make for breakfast. What does he have time to ensure the completion of before the kids go off to school?

Eggs, eggs seem pretty simple . . . he can probably fry up some bacon, provided they have some . . . and of course, toast. He locates the egg carton and fishes around until he retrieves the package of bacon lodged in the back of the fridge. He’s pretty sure that they have shredded cheese in here somewhere, too . . .

By the time the eggs are cooked, the bacon is fried, and the toaster is popping up, it’s six-thirty. Patton pops one of the crispier pieces into his mouth as he heads up the stairs to wake up his sons. The first door he opens has a rectangular name tag with _Thomas_ written on it, decorated with star stickers.

Thomas’s alarm is going off as Patton opens his door, letting a sliver of light pour in on the mountain of blankets piled high on his son’s bed. A single pale hand emerges from the quilts and slams down onto the alarm clock before quickly retreating from the crisp fall air.

“Tommy, you gotta get up now,” Patton hums. The lump of blankets grunts softly but doesn’t move. “Tooooooommyyyyyy . . . come on, buddy, you have to get up now.” Still no response. Patton sighs, crossing the laundry-covered floor and throws the curtains open. “There’s breakfast waiting in the kitchen, Tommy, but you have to get up now or you’ll miss the bus.”

“Mmmmmnnngggghhh . . . don’ wanna . . .”

Patton grips the bottommost blanket and pulls them all back, revealing his twelve-year-old son. Thomas groans and shoves his head underneath one of his pillows, trying to block out the sunlight, but Patton simply yanks it off. “None of that now, kiddo, you have to wake up!”

“Daaaaaad . . . do I hafta?”

“Yes, bud, you have to,” Patton laughs softly, ruffling Thomas’s hair. “I made eggs and bacon.”

Thomas opens one eye. “. . . didja make th’crispy?”

“Yes, bud, I made the super crispy bacon just like you like.”

Thomas groans and pushes himself to a sitting position, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. Patton kisses his disheveled brown hair before heading to the next bedroom. The door has a golden crown-shaped sign on it, with _Roman_ written in red cursive. The walls are also red, and the curtains are white with glittering golden stars painted on them. The comforter is covered in knights on horseback, piled high with so many stuffed animals that Patton can barely find his son.

“Ro? Sweetie, are you in there?”

The pile of stuffed animals moves a little, and the sleep-rumpled head of his ten-year-old son pops out. “Daddy?”

“Morning, Roman,” Patton says. “It’s time to get up now, honey.”

“Is it breakfast time now, Daddy?” Roman asks. “Is there Crofters on the toast?”

“Yes, Ro, it’s breakfast time, and there’s plenty of Crofters for you and your brother.”

Roman grins. “Yay!”

“Wash your face and put on your clothes before you come downstairs, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy!”

The last door has a satellite-shaped name tag with _Logan_ written on it neat block print. Patton pushes the door open, smiling when he sees his youngest son sitting on his bed, wrapped in his galaxy-patterned quilt, paging through a large book of space photos taken by satellites. “Already awake, Lo?”

Logan blinks up at him. “Morning, Daddy . . . I wanted to look at the space pictures before school.”

“When did you wake up, my little astronaut?” Patton asks, sitting on the bed. Logan pushes the book away and climbs into his lap. Patton happily wraps his arms around the little seven-year-old. “I know you were still awake when Papa and I came in to check on you last night, and you need to make sure you’re getting enough sleep!”

“I woke up at six o’clock, Daddy, I did get enough sleep,” Logan says. “I promise.”

Patton gently kisses Logan’s head, smoothing his fingers through the tangled nest of wavy bronze curls on his son’s head. “I made scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast today.”

“But I don’t like eggs or bacon, Daddy.” Logan nuzzles into his chest, blinking sleepily, as though he just wants to curl up in bed with his book and go right back to sleep.

“I know, but I made toast, too, just the way you like it.”

Logan perks up at that. “Did you make toast with Crofters, Daddy?”

“There’s plenty of jam in the fridge, sweetheart, and Papa and I will put whatever flavor you want onto your toast when you come down. Wash your face and put on school clothes, okay?”

“Is my nebula shirt clean, Daddy?”

“I think so, little astronaut. Check your drawers, okay?”

“Okay.”

By the time Patton makes it back down to the kitchen, Virgil is sitting at the table and grumpily nursing a cup of coffee. “Good morning, my love.”

“It is certainly morning,” Virgil mutters darkly. Patton gently kisses Virgil’s dark purple hair, and Virgil tips his head up to gently trace his nose along Patton’s jaw before kissing his cheek. Patton turns as Virgil kisses his cheek and catches Virgil’s mouth in his own.

Virgil tastes like black coffee, and he pulls back after a moment to gently bump their noses together. “Hey there, my dark and stormy angel,” Patton hums. Virgil’s pale skin turns a little pink under the praise.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to Patton’s mouth to force him to stop. Patton happily leans into the kiss, sliding one hand up to the back of Patton’s head to tangle his fingers in the purple strands.

“Daddy, Papa, that’s _gross_ ,” a small voice says firmly. Patton and Virgil break their kiss and turn to see Roman standing in the doorway. He’s dressed for school, but his hair is still a wild and wavy mess.

“You know that getting dressed for school involves brushing your hair, right, Roman?”

“But I don’t _wanna_ brush my hair, Dad! Papa’s so much better at it than I am!”

Virgil sighs. “Little prince, you’re going to have to brush your own hair one of these days. You know that, right?”

“But I don’t _wanna_ , Papa! Can you please brush my hair? Pleeeeaaaaaase, please please please _please!_ ”

“Eat your breakfast first, Roman, and then we’ll talk about it,” Patton says. Roman pouts, but he still sits in his chair and begins shoveling scrambled egg into his mouth the moment Patton sets his plate in front of him. “Slow down, honey, you don’t wanna choke!”

Thomas and Logan are quick to join the rest of their family at the breakfast table, Thomas yawning and blinking sleepily as he loads his plate with one spoonful of eggs and twelve extra-crispy bacon strips. “Take another spoonful of eggs, Thomas,” Patton says. “You need the protein.

“Okay, Dad . . .”

Logan climbs into his chair and swings his legs back and forth. “Can I have chocolate milk with my toast?”  
  
“Yes, Lo-berry, you can,” Virgil says, getting out of his chair to pour a drink for his son. “What flavor of Crofters do you want on your toast today?”

“Strawberry,” Logan says. “Please?”

“But of course, little astronaut!” Patton smiles, taking the jar that Virgil passes him. Roman drops his fork on his empty plate just as Patton sets Logan’s breakfast in front of him.

“Can I have more, Daddy?”

“Of course you can, Roman, but remember that you still have to brush your teeth and your hair before you can go to school, and you have to be ready to walk out the door to catch the bus in twenty minutes.”

“But I want _Papa_ to brush my hair, Daddy!”

“Only if you get all the rest of yourself ready,” Virgil says, taking another sip of his coffee. “Okay?”

“Okay, Papa!”

Patton listens to the hustle and bustle of his family as he packs lunches for himself and his sons, labelling each paper lunchbag with the correct name and a smiley face. He doodles a star on Thomas’s, a crown on Roman’s, and a rocketship on Logan’s, writing each of them a little note of encouragement to slip inside.

“Pat, who’s making dinner tonight, me?” Virgil asks, pulling a brush through Roman’s tangled locks. Roman flaps his hands and cries out as Virgil tugs through the knots in his thick hair.

“Yeah, do you mind? I’m probably going to be home late tonight . . .”

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil smiles. “I’ve got it. Now, Roman, go get your backpack and your lunch and make sure that you have your brother so that you two catch the bus, okay?”

Roman nods, sprinting off through the house and shouting for his younger brother. “Loooooooogaaaaaaaan, we have to go!”

“Do you have your sneakers?” Virgil asks. “Your homework? Your lunches? Your jackets?”

“Yes, Papa,” Logan says, “we have all of those things.”

“Are you coming to pick us up at the bus stop today, Papa?” Roman asks excitedly.

“Yes, little prince, I’ll be there to pick you and Logan up when the bus drops you off,” Virgil says, ruffling their hair. “Go kiss your Dad goodbye, hm?”

Roman and Logan hurry into the kitchen, and Patton kneels down to hug them. “Have a good day at school, little ones,” he says, kissing both of their foreheads. “I’ll see you when I come home from work.”

“Have a good day at work, Daddy! I love you!” Roman chirps.

“Love you, Daddy,” Logan murmurs, hiding his face in Patton’s neck. “See you tonight.”

Patton watches his sons hug their Papa before sprinting out the door to the bus stop, with Thomas quickly following after them. Virgil wraps his arms around Patton, nuzzling into the back of his neck and relishing in a moment of peace before Patton, too, has to leave for work.

“I love you,” Virgil murmurs. “I love you, my sunshine, the warmth and light of my life.”

“And I love you,” Patton responds. “I love you, my moonlight, the peace and light of my life.”

Patton presses one final kiss to Virgil’s lips before grabbing his lunch and hurrying out to his car. He loves the mornings, no matter what anyone else says.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on tumblr! // [@teacupfulofstarshine ](https://teacupfulofstarshine.tumblr.com)


End file.
